


one more time before i fall

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 09:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16830328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: This weird tension between you and Dean had to come to a head sometime, and what better time than when you’re trapped in the Impala with him for a long trip?





	one more time before i fall

**Author's Note:**

>   
> (Not my gif - I couldn't find out who made this, so please let me know if it's yours! I'll give credit or delete, whichever you prefer)

The last thing you remember before getting knocked over the head was calling Sam and Dean for help. You knew they would kick your ass for trying to take on this hunt by yourself, but you needed some space, and needed to blow off some steam.

You crack one eyelid open, squinting in the bright sunlight and register the low hum of the Impala. _Cool_ , you think, _had to get rescued like some teenager_. You must make a noise as you struggle to sit up right, because Dean’s head turns to face you. 

He doesn’t look happy. “Stop trying to move.” He says. “You have a concussion.” 

“Why’d you let me sleep, then?” You ask, figuring if he’s already mad at you, you might as well really go for gold, here. 

“You were unconscious when I found you, smartass. What the hell were you thinking?” The muscle on the side of his jaw jumps.

“I was thinking there was a ghoul eating people kind of close to where we live, so I should probably kill it.” 

Dean grinds his teeth together, looking like he’s trying really hard not to say something he’ll regret. “That was stupid.” He says calmly. “You should have told us. We would have gone with you.” 

“Needed some air.” You say quietly, and he makes a incredulous face.

“You serious? What - are we smothering you? In the bunker?” He looks back at the road, eyes dark. 

“I just– I’m not used to…” You trail off, “I’m not used to having people around all the time. I needed to get away for a bit.” 

Not totally a lie. 

You _aren’t_ used to having people around all the time; much more comfortable to have your own space and do things on your own. It’s not what’s been bothering you so much, though. You can feel yourself starting to develop feelings for Dean and you know if you let yourself, you’ll be head over heels for the guy. It’s better to get away now, before you make things awkward. Besides that, you can’t help feeling that you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Do you really get to have this? Friends who care about you? A kick ass place to live? It seems impossible that this could last.

Dean shakes his head. “Whatever. Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do. You’re a grown ass woman. But that was dumb.” 

You roll your eyes, turning to watch the scenery out the window. It’s going to be a long trip.

.

.

.

An hour later and neither one of you have said a word. It’s not really an awkward silence, but it gives you more time to consider the fact that you’re pretty sure Dean doesn’t like you.

He tolerates you, you think. You know he cares about your well being, and all that, but… to berate you about going off on your own? It seems weird to you because most days you think he wouldn’t really care if you packed your stuff and moved out.

”Need to stop for gas.” He says, breaking the silence. “Wanna check out your head, too.” He adds, quieter. You’re a little surprised.

”I don’t—“

”Just…” He starts, sighing, “Just humor me, okay? Let me check you for a concussion.” He pulls into the next gas station he sees, and silence settles over you both.

He gets out of the car and starts gassing up the Impala, and then he’s there at the passenger side window, tapping on it with his knuckles. “Open up.” He says, and you sigh, but do as he says. “Come here.” His voice is softer now, and you struggle to reconcile this side of Dean with the same guy who came to get you.

His fingers land on your elbow like he wants to help you out of your seat, but he stops at the last second. You get out on your own and stand next to him, hating how unsure of yourself you feel.

”The noise bothering you? The lights?” He asks, and you shake your head no. “Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

”No. I’m good, Dean.” You insist.

His eyes are intense on you. You know you have a giant bruise forming on your cheek and the back of your head has a good lump on it.

The gas pump makes a _click_ and it pulls Dean’s attention away from you for a few minutes as he finishes paying and screws the gas cap back on. When he’s finished, he hesitates before he comes back over to you, closer than he was before. “Don’t do that again.” He says, voice low. Before you can say anything, he leans in, warm lips pressed to your temple as his rough hand cups your uninjured cheek. Your skin tingles when he pulls away, and you’re sure you look shocked. Your mind is totally blank. “I’m gonna grab some food. Want anything?”

”N-no… no.” You stutter, trying to move past your shock.

”Be back in a minute.” He says, and turns to head inside the convenience store before you can say anything else, walking away from you like he hadn’t just completely turned your world upside down.

.

.

.

Two hours later and you’re back in the Bunker, hauling your bag out of the trunk. You don’t remember Dean grabbing it, but he must have. Your car is back, too, which makes you wonder if Sam had been there too, when you were almost a ghoul’s dinner.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts as he comes through the door to the garage. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam.” You say quietly, one eye on Dean as he goes inside the bunker without another word. “Sorry I freaked you guys out.” 

Sam grimaces, “It’s okay. It’s just– when you called… we could _hear_ that thing attack you. We weren’t sure if…” he trails off. “Anyway. You’re fine, that’s what matters. Glad you’re back.” 

You hear Sam’s voice ringing in your head as you head down the hall to the bedrooms, stopping by the bathroom to finally shower off the dirt and grime of the last few days.

No wonder Dean was so upset. You think you’d probably react the same way one of them had taken off on their own, never mind if you actually had to hear them get attacked over the phone. The guilt creeps back in again. You know you’re capable, and you know Sam and Dean think you’re capable too. This is a little different, though. It’s not that they didn’t think you could look after yourself, it’s that they want you to know that you don’t _have to_ , not anymore.

After you shower and get changed, you towel off your hair the best you can and decide to go to Dean’s room before you can chicken out. The door is open just a crack, and you can see him on the bed reading, leaning against the headboard.

You rap your knuckles against the door, and see him look up quickly. “You busy?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Not really. Everything alright?” 

“I just…” you take a deep breath, “I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have left without at least telling you where I was going. I’m also sorry you had to hear me–”

Dean cuts you off, “You don’t have to apologize. Look, I…” he stops, running a hand through his hair, “I was a little hard on you, but, kid… when I found you…”

“I get it, Dean, really. You don’t have to tell me–”

“I thought you were dead.” He says, his tone raw and vulnerable. “Sam tracked your phone, and when we got there–” He swallows hard, “I don’t know if you remember, but you killed the ghoul. Probably got it before it could get you. But it hit you so hard before it went down, I saw you– I saw you hit your head on the floor. I– I thought you were _dead_.” 

Tears form in your eyes at the look on Dean’s face. You never thought he would be like this – vulnerable and letting you see this side of him. 

“We gotta trust each other, okay?” He says, eyes wide. “Part of you being here is because we care about you. You have to be able to talk to us. If we’re– if we’re around too much, or making you feel crowded, you gotta let us know.” 

“I’m just not used to this. To having people around.” You tell him quietly, and he smiles.

“We’re not either. Makes us a little clingy.” He chuckles. “Like a friggin’ teenager.” He mumbles. “I like having you around,” he says, and you’re acutely aware of him switching from _we_ to _I_. “I don’t have a lot of people around. We just got Cas back, and Mom…” he trails off, “I’m a little protective, okay?” 

You roll your eyes, but it’s fond. “I’ve figured that much out.” 

“Next time find a salt and burn if you want to go hunt on your own, deal?” He asks, and you move towards him, hand out for him to shake.

“Shake on it.” You say, and when he grips your hand, you flashback to earlier in the day when the same hand was so gentle on the side of your face, lips pressed against your temple. 

His thumb drags over the inside of your wrist and he’s slow to let go. When he does, you just sort of stare at his hand, wide-eyed, and you’re sure he’s thinking that you’ve finally lost it. 

When you finally meet his eyes again, that’s not at all what you see. You see a bunch of emotions flash through his eyes before he can school them back into nonchalance, but you’re surprised by the _want_ that you see. Your heart races despite yourself, and you’re glad that he let go of your hand, or else he’d surely be able to feel your pulse pounding. 

“You need to eat.” He says, voice rough. He clears his throat, and looks away, the moment effectively broken. “Come on, I’ll see what we’ve got in the kitchen.” 

“You don’t have to–”

He gives you a _look_. “I’m sorry, who just got their ass handed to them and hasn’t eaten in a day?” 

“I did _not_ get my ass kicked!” You protest, and he laughs. “I ganked that thing, and I did it half-unconscious!” 

“Yeah, whatever. No one likes a bragger.” He says, and you’re happy that you’re back to this. This is much more comfortable. 

His arm settles around your shoulders as he pulls you through the halls and to the kitchen. 

“You know,” you say, “Once you start cooking for me, there’s no getting rid of me.” 

He chuckles. “I think I’m good with that.” He says quietly, the tips of his ears turning pink as he avoids looking at you.

“Yeah,” you say, unable to stop your smile. “Me too.” 


End file.
